


Stepping In

by Vixenmage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixenmage/pseuds/Vixenmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley Shacklebolt has not slept in three days; he knows that things will eventually make sense again, but his mind refuses to do anything but keep him moving. (Spoilers for pre-epilogue Deathly Hallows.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping In

Kingsley stared at the rubble without seeing it, for what felt like years. Distantly, it occurred to him that he wasn't even thinking about the battle, or plans for recovery; no scenes of death replayed in his mind, nor did hope flash before his eyes. He simply sat, unmoving, unthinking, while all around him emptiness echoed, endlessly, infinitely.

The battle had ended three days ago; as all the bodies had been recovered, the wounded gathered, and the fugitives in reach rounded up, there was little left to do but clean up. He'd been working mindlessly for all three days, not sleeping - running on leftover adrenaline, exhaustion, and the coffee Charlie Weasley and the Elves had kept hot in the gaping ruin that had been the Entrance Hall. None of them had slept, really. The wounded, and those who'd brought back Death Eaters - few could keep from sleep after that much spell-work. Which, he knew, was a tragedy of its own; the last thing you wanted, after these ordeals, was to face your dreams.

That was, in part, why he was still sitting here, staring into the ruin of what had been the last great fortress of the wizarding world. Why he'd spent the last three days working numbly, not sleeping, not eating, trying as hard as he could not to think about anything but the task in front of him.

It was a bit harder for him, as the Interim Minister of Magic - a position he'd been informed of about six hours after the battle's end. He could've strangled Arthur Weasley, had he been able to reach a single emotion. Instead, he'd blinked, nodded, and walked out to the station to speak with any reporters who had come. He'd been told, later, that he'd done very well; spoken impassively, with strength and sincerity, and the writing had been all in favor. He hadn't read any of it, or listened, really to the words coming out of his own mouth.

He knew that at some point, he would need to get out of this stupor and begin to think again. He wished he didn't.

"...Told Arthur it was more important than he'd given it, we can't put this off forever, and Interim is hardly what the wizarding world needs..." the voices reached him as from a great distance, and he forced himself to pay attention as his brain mechanically categorized them: Minerva McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore.

"Kingsley, there you are." The footsteps clapped up behind him, but it took him a moment of composure to stand and turn around. His thoughts gathered, it seemed, from the scattered stars over the broken walls, and reluctantly at that.

"Here I am," he replied woodenly. "What's happened?"

The two shared a glance, and Aberforth, ever the blunt diplomat to his brother's twisted version of tact, shrugged. "They're finally bringing Thicknesse around," he said. "We need somebody to talk to him, make sure he's not going to do anything stupid. Last thing anyone needs right now is bloody politics."

" _Politik_ ," Kingsley murmured. "Alright, then." He brushed his robes off and followed them from the open room without another word, still trying to gather his thoughts from the distant skies. He could practically hear Minerva and Aberforth exchanging sidelong glances, but it didn't seem to matter; the world would solidify again, they all knew it. He'd step into the robes they were pushing at him, and deal with the aftermath. He just needed to... step out of the aftermath, first.

Pius Thicknesse stood looking out a window - still shattered - when Kingsley stepped in, carefully closing the door behind him. The other wizard didn't turn around.

"They want me to talk you into stepping down," he said, his voice bitter with irony.

"Stepping down," Thicknesse echoed distantly.

"Yes. Apparently, there's talk of politicking around your maintaining a seat in office." He leaned against the door frame. As he spoke, his mind began to turn; strangely, he found things beginning to make sense.

Thicknesse shook his head, and after a moment, turned away from the window. "Shacklebolt," he said quietly, "If anyone tries to keep me in that building, I will-- hah-- not be held responsible for my actions." The strangled chuckle was unmistakeable.

Kingsley pushed off from the wall, took a step forward, and clasped his old friend's hand. Pius gave another half-hearted chuckle; this one failed to hide the sob behind it. Something snapped, in his heart, then, and he reached forward and embraced the other man. The world solidified around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic, there. Pius Thicknesse worked in the Ministry for years, as did Kingsley Shacklebolt; the possibility that they were friends before the takeover is a fair one, I think.


End file.
